EMPIRE - Poem

The pillars of humanity erode as I walk.

Dragging my heels, bloody through a war.

My eyes track ruins. Every one of these deserted places once was a lavish residence. Temples. Markets.

All people believe they are immortal. All empires collapse the same way.

God-kings are turned into dirt, much like The farmer.

I drag my belongings, all stolen. My identity, not my own.

The sun sets on America. Germany. England. China. Rome. Greece. Persia. Babylon.

The immortal becomes dust. 

I watch the sunrise, burning the paint off icons.

My feet are covered in rubble that once was unbreakable.

I sit at a well. The people who took this journey before me… saw their own reflections.

I do not see mine.

The water is caked in debris and mud.

Nothing is untouched by the grief and wrath of War

The lack of spoils when Greed becomes God

I drink what I can, I’m so thirsty that my tongue clicks.

I continue to walk…

Dragging my heels, bloody through a war.

The revolutionary soul can be smelled in the cold air.

The gold that the Kings once idolized now resembles dusty rock.

Hedonism has brought me to a graveyard.

The feeling of ghosts, full of regret, makes me shiver.

The feeling of spirits that would do anything to change.

The knowing of their fate, all buried under my feet.

The nooses of public executions are now untied.

Chains of slaves are now unshackled, rustling in the wind.

What was it like to see a Titan such as this fall?

The dead claw at my skin, I can hear them beg.

Beg for water, food, love, and clarity.

All are blind, but they can feel and hear everything.

I can taste smoke, fire is near.

The sun sets on an empire, and rises on land.

Day in, day out. This never changes.

I’m still so cold. I can see the fire.

Even the sky has a vendetta with this mass grave.

The storm begins, cursing the land with rage.

I arrive at the fire, a sign for me to find.

Things will never be the same.